Death
by Ritz-chan
Summary: In which Death decides that only she can screw her Master over, and that Fate and Destiny have no power over him. When her Master is in need of a helping hand, Death can't resist intervening.
1. Prologue

A twenty year old Harry Potter sat at the Three Broomsticks on a cold winter night, nursing his firewhiskey as he though about his life.

It had been three years since he had gotten rid of his nemesis, and his pathetic minions. Seven long years of fights, of war, of death, of pain. And then, all of a sudden, peace. To say he was expecting it to just be over would be a lie.

No matter how many times he had imagined being at peace, with nobody aiming for his head on a spike, he always though it an impossible dream. But most of the death eaters died during the last battle, only a few survived, and they were easily captured. Without their Lord they were like headless chickens, running around without knowing what to do.

The first few months after the war were spend reconstructing, not only Hogwarts who had suffered much damage during the battle, but also the British Wizarding Community. Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade both needed to be put together once more.

And not to mention the funerals. What followed the last battle was a long list of funeral, friends and enemies alike. He had attended all, he felt it was his duty. The friends to honor their memories. The enemies to honor what they could have been, if they had chosen other paths.

After Hogwarts was restored to its former glory, he had returned to finish his last year. Ron had wanted to go straight to Auror training, and had begged him to use his fame to do it. But he refused. He had just walked out of a war, he didn't want to step right into Auror training. He wanted to enjoy life, life with his friends. Hogwarts had always been his home, so he wanted to enjoy his last year without enemies plotting his death.

Hermione had agreed with his choice, of course she would. She wanted them all to finish their education, even if Ron though differently. Their seven year was the most fun, especially since they spent it mostly hanging out and not ... running from three headed dogs, or killing gigantic snakes.

Hermione and Ron had also started dating, he still didn't know how that relationship even worked but he wasn't going to say anything. They had gotten married a month after they finished their seventh year, and Hermione was almost ready to pop they first kid out.

That left him to think about his own relationship with the youngest Weasley, Ginny. They had shared a few looks, and a few kisses during the war. After the war ended, Ginny had wanted to start a serious relationship with him. While he wouldn't have been against a relationship, he wasn't sure if he wanted a serious one. He never did have a childhood, and he didn't had much time to be a teenager when people were trying to kill him left and right. He wanted to enjoy his life, his freedom.

He liked Ginny, taking her out on a few dates would have been fantastic. The problem was that everybody was pushing him to ask her to marry him, like they knew it was meant to be. He wanted a casual, no pressures relationship with her. Not a shotgun wedding.

He took her on a few dates during his seventh year, but when Hermione and Ron tied the knot everyone started to look at him with that glint in their eyes. The glint that pretty much asked 'When are you going to pop the question?'.

He wanted to scream 'never' out of the top of his lungs, but the Weasleys were his family. They cared for him, and loved him like one of their own. So instead of making his feelings known he continued to 'date' Ginny. He didn't feel bad about it, because he liked her. He wasn't in love her, he still didn't know the meaning of true love. He knew he loved Ginny, but he wasn't in love with her.

Even now, almost two years after Hermione and Ron married people still continued to give him the looks. But now he mostly ignored them. What bothered him however, were the stares Ginny gave him. He wasn't sure it was because of the wedding thing, or because they were dating for almost three years and still hadn't had sex. He also new that she was brave enough to ask him to marry her, and he was silently hoping she never though about it.

He and Ron had already started Auror training, and while they could have skipped it Harry though it was important to have the same experiences as the other Aurors. Of course Ron had grumbled about it, but eventually he went along with it. He didn't want any special treatment just because he killed Voldemort. He wanted people to recognize him professionally for his abilities, not because of his fame.

"How long are you going to continue to look at your drink for?" Madam Rosmerta inquired from behind the counter.

"Just thinking about life Rosmerta." He sighed, taking a sip of his firewhiskey.

"Don't worry to much, whatever it is will work itself out dear." The blonde woman said, as she gave me a reassuring smile.

He returned the smile, but he was pretty sure it looked like a grimace. Quickly finishing his drink, he put a galleon next to the empty cup. "Rest of good evening Rosmerta." He said, before quickly leaving. It was getting late and he needed to work tomorrow morning.

He stepped out into the cold night, and a shiver went through his back and the freezing snow fell from the sky. He looked up to see it fall, before shoving his hands into his pockets. He was about to start walking towards the apparition point when someone called his name.

"Lord Potter." A man called as he walked towards him. He stopped and stared, not sure who this was. "I just wanted to thank you for what you did for our community." The man said, and he let out a small sigh. He still wasn't sure how to act towards people who came up to him out of nowhere to greet him and to thank him, so he put on a small smile and nodded his head.

"You don't have to thank me sir." He replied, as the man extended his hand to shake his own. He complied, but the next second he was regretting his decision.

The moment their hands touched, the man pulled him and he only saw a glimpse of metal with the moonlight reflected on it before pain in his abdomen was all he could feel. He looked up, only to see the man smirking at him, with a blooded dagger in his hand.

"And this is how the man-who-conquered dies, stabbed to death in a lonely and dark winter night." The man said, before letting out a happy laugh. "There's no way your going to survive this one, even you're not that lucky. The dagger has a very dark and ancient curse on it. Legend said that your soul will be bound for eternity. No happy afterlife for you Potter. My Lord has been avenged, my job here is done." The man whispered in his ear, before giving him a kick and leaving him alone to die.

He looked up and saw stars, as he coughed a large amount of blood. If this was his end, he supposed it was somewhat peaceful and beautiful. Never had the stars and the moon looked more beautiful to him before, and the snow. The snow made everything white and pure. He was about to close his eyes and embrace death, as he had done three years ago, when a voice echoed through his very being.

"Master, I wonder why Fate and Destiny hate you so." A female voice rang through his ears.

He forced his eyes to open, and there, looking down on him was a dark haired woman dressed in grey with a sad expression on her face. She looked like she was on her mid twenties, but he couldn't be sure because her blue eyes showed that she was much older than that. Much, much older.

"Who-" He let out, before more blood filled his throat.

"You know who I am Master." She replied, as she knelled next to him. "My poor, poor unlucky Master."

"Death..." He mumbled out, with wide eyes. He had thrown away the hallows but it seemed the tittle of Master of Death was still his. He forced myself to stay awake, although he could feel himself slipping into the darkness.

"Master, the dagger that wounded you is indeed cursed. You will be forced to continue on this plane, either as a ghost or a phantom but you will not be able to enter the afterlife. But you are my Master, I can at least give you two different options. I can have you be reborn right after your passing Master, but you will not remember your past life. Or, I can change your fate master so that you do not die in this time and place." The woman explained, as she softly petted his hair.

He heard her words, and he felt his heart explode when he found out that the man had been right. He would not join the after life, he would never met his parent again. Or Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred...

But she was giving him choices. To either die and be a ghost or a phantom, to be reborn or the change his fate. Whatever that meant. He didn't want to be a ghost, much less a phantom so that was out. Being reborn was a good choice, but he wouldn't remember who he was. He felt that he was leaving his person, Harry Potter ,behind. It felt like he was spitting on his parents graves. He would be reborn to different parents, he wasn't sure if he could do it. To forget all the people that loved him, and all the people that gave their lives for him. And the change of fate, he didn't know what it meant.

"Change... Fate?" He whispered, and he was glad that she understood that it was a question.

"Fate and Destiny have screwed you over too much over the years, since before you were born. Death is timeless, I can change your past Master. However, the only death that I can stop is yours Master." Death explained.

Change his past? His past wasn't sunshines and daisies, if anything could be changed he wouldn't mind even if she couldn't stop the deaths of his loved ones.

"Do it." He whispered, as darkness greeted him once more.

She place a kiss on her Master's cold forehead, and everything turned white.

"As you wish Master."


	2. Little Master

He wasn't sure how he ended up here. Really, seven year old Harry Potter truly had no idea. He supposed it all began when his cousin, Dudley, decided to beat the snot out of some kid and blame it on him. Did the teacher really believe he could beat a boy double his size? He wished! If he could do such a thing his cousin and his friends wouldn't mess with him.

The kid who got his ass kicked by Dudley was to afraid to say the truth so of course he got the blame for it. All of the adults seemed to thing he was some kind of miscreant. So of course they decided that he needed psychological help. Normally he would have had a quick chat with the school psychologist, but it seemed Lady Luck wasn't on his side. Apparently the old woman had died in her two days ago, and the new psychologist still hadn't arrived.

His teacher called his relatives about the situation. He had thought for sure that he was dead meat, his uncle would probably lock him without food for eternity. However that wasn't the case. While he did get thrown into the cupboard, like usual, his relatives were quite happy. They now had a reason to blame for my freaky business when they talked to the neighbors. Their poor, poor nephew was mentally ill, and it all came from the other side of the family.

Since my teacher and my relatives agreed that I needed 'help' has soon as I could, they told me to come to this place every day as soon as school finished. It was called the Azrael Mental Health Institute, although that was just a fancy name for nut house.

While he was sure that his relatives wanted his stay here to be permanent he was just told to come to group therapy. The only psychologist around was the one that worked here, at least until the one that would take the position at his school arrived. But the woman was too busy to just have a chat, so group therapy it was.

He took a seat on a chair, ignoring the world around him while he stared at his worn out shoes. Maybe having chats with mentally ill people would be more interesting than his normal routine. At the very least he didn't have to spent his afternoons after school doing slave work for his relatives.

He was seven, but he was far from stupid. We knew he was smarter than his cousin. He knew he was smarter than most of the kids his age. He supposed that the only reason for that was because most kids his age were coddled and didn't see the the real world.

The world that was hopeless, cold and not very merciful. He knew, because he knew that normal children weren't forced to work since they could stand on their feet. Because normal children didn't sleep in cupboards. Because normal children were given three meals per day. Because normal children were loved by their family.

But even so, even knowing what the world was really like, he still hoped. For love, for family, for something else far far away from his relatives. For Lady Luck to noticed his existence for once in his life. It was this silent hope that keep him alive and, at the same time, tortured his very own soul.

He felt someone take a seat in the chair next to his and stopped thinking about his own misery. He fidgeted a bit at the new presence but kept his eyes on the ground, hoping whoever sat next to him wouldn't say anything. After a few minutes in silence he got the courage to take a peek at his 'neighbor'.

She wasn't exactly what he thought about when he imagined a insane person. If she had been at a punk rock concert nobody would find anything amiss. But here, where everything was either white or a pale color, she was standing out from the rest.

She looked like one of the teens aunt Petunia was always complaining about, scoundrels his aunt called them. But emos, punks, goths, junkies we're words he also remembered his aunt saying. He couldn't exactly tell her age. She looked like a teen, yet she had a aura around her that screamed power. Like some of the teachers when they got pissed.

Her dark locks were up in a messed up bun, strands for hair falling down in chaos. The only make up on her was the one around her eyes, a disarray of dark shadows. She was dressed like she had woken up in a hurry and had picked the first comfy things she had found, unlike the rest of the female population around the world. Her image was one of turmoil and wreckage.

He was about to look away when her eyes met his, and he froze up. He hadn't known what her age was, but now he knew she was far older than she looked. At least mentally. Her eyes reminded him of the eyes of old people, really old people. Their color, blue, only made it worse.

"What are you looking at?" She inquired, although he couldn't trace any hostility.

"Sorry." He mumbled, forcing himself to stare at the ground once more.

"Aren't you a little bit too young to be a nut job?" The girl, woman, crone inquired as she shifted her head to look at him.

"Just here for the group therapy." He replied, somewhat afraid of not answering to her.

"Really?" She inquired. "Me too. Are you here too because of Mila kicking the bucket?"

He nodded silently. Mila Hopkins was the physiologist that used to work at his school before she died. But this woman didn't seem like she went to his school so why was she here? He curiously took a glance at her again, and it seemed she understood his questioning look.

"That old bat was in charge of the all the schools around here. Not that she did her job right anyway." The dark haired woman informed him. "The only reason I'm here is because she's dead."

"Me too." He replied.

"Well, if they send a kid to the nut house for group therapy you must be quite the devil." She said, taking a long glance at him. "Either that or your teachers are the ones that should be locked in here."

He couldn't contain the snort that escaped his lips at the though of his teacher, but also his relatives, locked up in the nut house. Priceless.

"I like you kid, you can call me Freya by the way." The woman, Freya, said giving me a wink.

"Harry." He informed, giving her a nod.

"Harry, what a lovely name." She whispered loud him to ear, he was about to look at her when a dark skinned lady entered the room and took a seat. Only then did he noticed that all the chair were full now. He decided not to examine the others closely, for now at least. Although he could see a woman playing with a headless doll a few chairs away from his, and a young man that continued to scratch himself nonstop. He mentally sighed.

"Good afternoon, I'm doctor Amnell" The doctor greeted, as she pulled his looked around. "Welcome to group therapy."

From the corner of his eye he saw the smile that once stood in Freya face disappear as soon as she saw the doctor. The cold expression that stood in her face could freeze an ocean.

For some reason that made him cautious about this new woman.

* * *

Now when Death decided that her Master's fate would be changed, she wasn't sure how she would do it. While Death was Timeless, Death also didn't went against Fate and Destiny. Well, most of the time.

The only way to change her Master's fate was to change it when the meddlers weren't around. And when she said meddlers she wasn't just talking about Fate and Destiny, but also about that Dumbledore guy.

She couldn't really change the death's of her Master's parents. It was a stone forced by Fate, with the help of Destiny. They had been Fated to die, it was their Destiny to die protecting their only child. As such she also could not stop her Master from being sent to live with his awful relatives.

She wanted nothing than to rip their souls from the living world, for the crimes they had committed against her Master. Again this was a forced stone. Master had been Fated to suffer in his childhood on the hand of his own blood, and it was his Destiny to live through it. She had meant what she had told her Master, Fate and Destiny had really screwed him over too much. It wasn't like Death could lie. Death is the ultimate truth after all.

As such she waited, until none of the forced stones and the meddlers were in her away. To change her Masters past she first had to create a ripple, do something that tipped the previous past from the possible future. Gladly for her there was only one thing that could change the timeline, death.

A simple death would cause time to unravel and to be rewritten a new. So she searched left and right, a soul that could bring that change and that yet did not have much to live for. Death was just, and as such only the guilty were punished with eternal damnation before their time.

She finally found a candidate, one that deserved to die before her time. Her name was Mila Hopkins, she was a psychologist at her Master's school, and all the surrounding schools. Mila had been a very naughty girl.

As a psychologist it was her duty to see to the mental well being of the children in her care, her Master included, however the old woman didn't care. She only cared about receiving her paycheck at the end of the month. Two months ago there had been a suicide, one girl from a high school that Mila had been in charge of had slit her wrists right in the middle of class. Mila knew the girl had a depression, and that suicide had been on the girls thoughts. But she didn't care, she believed the girl wasn't her responsibility.

A life for a life. If only she had cared enough, to at least try to help the teenager she would have lived a few more years. As it was this was her punishment. Not to mention the fact that the old woman had already had a few chats with her Master and believed the was abused by his relatives. But once again the woman didn't care.

The bitch drowned in the tub, like a cat begging for her life. Death found it amusing enough to stay by and watch as the old woman drew her last breath. And as such the die was cast.

Master was accused of one of his cousins misdeeds, and was sent to do group therapy at the nearest mental institution. In the old time line the old woman had not died, and her Master only had to have a five minute long chat with her before being sent on his way. One death could change so much.

She took a seat, and looked around. This place smelled like desperation and death, and she could taste insanity in her tongue. Maybe bringing her Master to such a place hadn't been her best idea, but he had to get used to it. The world wasn't all Yin and Yang, the twenty year old version of her Master had found out that the hard way.

When he was a child, at the age he was now, he had though the world was all dark. When he went to Hogwarts, his perceptions changed, and he started to believe that light was there to battle against the darkness of the world. After the war he finally understood that the true balance of the world isn't in the white or the black, but in the grey. The sooner her dear Master understood that the better for him.

She caught a glimpse of emerald green eyes on her and asked. "What are you looking at?"

"Sorry." Her Master mumbled, and looked away. As if her Master needed to apologize for looking her way.

"Aren't you a little bit too young to be at a nut job?" She asked, trying to make some sort of conversation.

"Just here for the group therapy." He replied, and she was glad he even replied at all.

"Really?" She asked. "Me too. Are you here too because of Mila kicking the bucket?" Indeed, she was only here for group therapy, because it was where he was.

He nodded silently.

"That old bat was in charge of the all the schools around here. Not that she did her job right anyway." She informed him, and she couldn't hide her distaste for the woman from her voice. "The only reason I'm here is because she's dead." Indeed, if the woman hadn't died she could have not interfered.

"Me too." He replied.

"Well, if they send a kid to the nut job for group therapy you must be quite the devil." She said, taking a long glance at him. Her little Master was anything but the devil, the only reason he was her Master in the first place was because he never wished, not even once, too use her power for his own gain. "Either that or your teachers are the ones that should be locked in here."

The little Master snorted.

"I like you kid, you can call me Freya by the way." She said, giving him one of her many names. Freya had been the name given to the Norse goddess associated with death. She supposed it was one of her many name that sounded somewhat normal. Each culture had different names, different tittles, different gods and goddesses of death and each with a weirder name than the previous one.

"Harry." He informed, giving her a nod.

"Harry, what a lovely name." She whispered to herself, because his name sounded so small and yet so strong. Like him.

"Good afternoon, I'm doctor Amnell" The doctor greeted, as she sat on a chair. "Welcome to group therapy."

The moment she saw this woman, all her thoughts disappeared. She was radiating power, her strong presence ensured it. Her soul was golden, Death had only see a few souls such as this.

Whoever this woman was, she definitely wasn't human.


	3. Way with Words

"The group session has been canceled." The fat nurse lady at the reception desk of the nuthouse informed, sneering at them.

Freya lifted an eye brow at the sneer, before rolling her eyes and pulling me along with her. "This is great Harry." She said, giving me smile.

"I have to go home." I informed, looking at my shoes. The past month had been better than normal, I didn't have to work every afternoon at the Dursleys because I had group sessions, and in group session I spend most of his time with Freya. Mostly because she was the less insane person in said sessions, including the doctor. Let's just say her full faced smiles and her always happy deposition made Doctor Amnell weirder to me than some of her patients. Not to mention the glares Freya sent to their doctor every session, it was very amusing.

"Don't be lame kid, it's not like your relatives know you didn't have group therapy today." The dark haired woman that had become his friend said, rolling her eyes. "Let's do something fun today."

I was surprised she said relatives and not family, but I let it slide. She probably knew about my home situation but kept quiet not to upset me. She was still kind of a mystery to me, but I had already figured her out a bit. She had a way with words, always planing her word before saying them. She reminded me of a lawyer, because I had heard my uncle revering to lawyers as 'sharks that attack with poisonous teeth when you least expect.'

"Don't you have friends your own age?" I inquired, rolling my eyes at her. Normally I wouldn't be this sarcastic with anyone else, but I knew she found it amusing.

"No, not really." She easily replied, before messing up my hair. I huffed and slapped her hand away, this had become a normal occurrence. "Let's get some snacks brat, I know this cool place."

"Fine." I replied, following behind her, with a small smile in place that I was hoping she didn't see.

* * *

"What is this place?" I inquired, as she opened the door to what looked to be a bookshop of some kind.

"It's a bookstore coffee shop." The gothic looking girl informed him, making a signal to a girl behind the coffee counter. She then proceed to grab his wrist pulling him towards one of the more hidden tables in the back. "I come here often, for the snacks and for the free books."

"I see." I replied, looking around. While it didn't look like a very fancy place it also didn't look cheap either. The large amount of books gave it a homey appearance, it was nice.

"Do you want to grab a book?" Freya said, pulling a large book from the bookshelves and setting it on our table.

"What are you going to read?" I asked, curious. She didn't seem like the studious type, more like the rebel type of person that skipped school often.

"The laws of this country." She said opening the book. "It's a very dry read, but very informative."

"Law?" I lifted my eye brow at that, while she did remind me of a lawyer I never though she would actually study it. "Do you want to be a lawyer?"

"Gods no." Freya quickly replied, frowning at me. "But law is the second best way to understand human society, the first being their history. But I've already read most of the history books laying around here so now I'm diving into human laws."

"What do you mean?" I inquired, somewhat curious as to why she seemed so interested in it.

"Historical events result in different laws, think like this- if Hitler had won the second world war today you and I would probably be second class citizens because our hair isn't blonde. You feel me?" She said, and I nodded.

"What I like to do is connect history and laws, not to mention the old laws that are still in effect in some places of the world." She informed me with a smirk.

"Old laws?" I asked, unsure.

"Some societies are so stagnant in time that while they create new laws every day they never erase the old ones, which means that it's easy to manipulate their juridic system." She said, her eyes laughing.

"That's completely stupid." I said, shocker. "What kind of idiots would let that happen?"

"You'll figure it out in a few years." She replied, still silently laughing. He was about to ask what she meant when the girl that was before behind the counter come up to their table with tea and snacks. Before he could even ask how much it costed Freya shoved a cookie in his mouth.

"So kid, you want to learn about Law with me?" She asked, grabbing a slimmer book from the bookshelves.

"Sure, sound fun." I replied, after finishing the cookie.

It was how it all started, with me and her sitting next to each other eating cookies and reading large books. Of course soon enough our lessons evolved.

* * *

After that first cancelled session, doctor Amnell cancelled all the group therapy sessions on Fridays which quickly became sort of a special day of the week for me. Two years quickly passed, and every Friday since then Freya would kidnap me from school to do something with her. I still believe she should get some friends her own age but she just ignored my sassy comments.

We would read books about everything, from science to politics, while munching on biscuits and tea or sometimes we went to concerts and movies. But we didn't just study books, we also did a few practical things. Like that time she decided to learn how to pickpocket from a guy that tried to steal her wallet, or that time she decided to put us through Krav Maga lessons.

The Dursleys knew that something was up with me, but for some strange reason they didn't mess with me anymore. Sure, they still annoyed me into making them food but now every time they looked at me they would start shaking as if they were cold and then they just left. Seeing as they left me alone I started spending every free time I had during the weekends with Freya too.

She appeared in Privet Drive on a Saturday without notice and I though my uncle would kick her out, but the moment she glared at him with her old looking blue eyes my uncle became the coward I knew he was and left us alone.

I was turning nine years old in a few weeks, and I knew Freya would give me something especial this year. She had said 'I'll give you something close to your heart', and I was super excited.

Because, if anything, my mysterious best friend had a way with words and she always said the absolute truth.


End file.
